


Christmas Nater

by hannah_baker



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Background McStrome, Christmas fic, College AU, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Recreational Drinking, background past Dylan yearning for Mitch, non-hockey au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker/pseuds/hannah_baker
Summary: Mikey is in love with his college roommate. His roommate is in love with Christmas.





	Christmas Nater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/gifts).



> I wrote this for Lotts, because their passion for Mikey and Nate is contagious, and I have caught the bug. If you like Mikey and Nater and haven't read Lotts' many wonderful stories, please do yourself a favor. 
> 
> I love Christmas! I love College AU! I love emotionally broken Dylan Strome! I love the fucking superbuddies! Man, I'm just fucking happy because I wrote this in (almost) one day, and it brought me a lot of joy. I hope it brings you folks joy too. Happy holidays!! 
> 
> Oh man, did I ever make up a ton of crap here. Any details about the McLeods and Stromes are like, 100% false, outside of them like, being neighbors.

Mikey wasn’t exactly sure what college would be like, but if he had to have guessed, it would have been this: staying up “studying” until three in the morning in the common room on the floor of the dorm building you live on, trying to get some work done for your history class with your best friend, who also happens to be your roommate. 

 

He would have predicted the studying. The late nights. He probably would have predicted the fucking around and not actually studying, let’s be real. Living in a dorm was a given, and so was having a roommate. 

 

But the thing that he could never have predicted was Nathan Bastian, the best best friend he’d ever had. Sorry, Stromer. 

 

He heard other people complain about their roommates, but from day one Nate had clicked with Mikey instantly, dragging him out of their room on move-in day to find the best tacos (or at least the tacos closest to campus) and making him laugh every two point four seconds for five hours straight, until he had to ask Nate to shut it because his abs were sore. 

 

Nate was special. 

 

At the moment, Nate was trying to be serious. It was two weeks until finals and Christmas break, and he had his history textbook open, carefully dolling out Skittles he’d gotten from the vending machine in the lobby onto the open pages. 

 

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Mikey asked from over the screen of his laptop. He had the same history book but digital, because Dylan had shown him how to illegally download his textbooks. Sometimes it paid to know a sophomore. 

 

“It’s like, little treats I get to eat when I get to that spot in my reading,” Nate said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Mikey reached across the table they were sharing and took a red one. “Hey!” 

 

Mikey shrugged. “I was already to that point in the reading.” 

 

“You twerp,” Nate complained, replacing the Skittle from the bag he pulled out of the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. It was so late that they were both in their pajamas, and Nate’s hair was messy and wild, kind of sticking straight up, the smile on his face sleepy but just as mischievous as ever. 

 

Mikey ate the replacement Skittle too just to rile up Nate, who huffed and got up to put Mikey in a headlock. He flailed and almost knocked his computer off the table, letting out a loud squak as he and Nate both reached for the computer to steady it on the table. Nate’s Skittles shook off his reading and mostly onto the floor and he groaned. 

 

Dylan Strome’s face poked around the wide opening to the common room. Dylan had decided to become an RA this year, since he had tanked his relationship with his roommate from freshman year, and had become Mikey’s RA specifically because he’d pulled some strings. It was mostly a good thing. Mikey liked having a familiar face around, even if he thought Dylan might be having kind of a rough year. 

 

“Of course it’s you two,” he said. He rubbed his eyes, sleepy, like they’d woken him up. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing soft flannel PJ’s, the bags under his eyes ever-present. He didn’t look pissed. Just...resigned. “No flirting after midnight.” 

 

“We’re not-” Mikey started, but Nate cut him off. 

 

“I’ll flirt whenever I want to, Strome,” he said, pulling Mikey’s headlocked body closer to him by wrapping his free arm around Mikey’s chest, and kissing him on the temple. By the grace of god, Mikey didn’t shiver at his touch. He knew that Nate was just doing it to fuck with Dylan. They had some kind of tense rivalry for Mikey’s affections, and while it would have been nice if his friends could be friends with each other, Mikey wasn’t a good enough person to pretend he didn’t like being fought over, at least a little bit. 

 

“Please go to bed, I know you’re not studying,” Dylan said, being careful to not rise to Nate’s taunts. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nate responded, letting Mikey go, and sitting back down across from him. He bent under the table to find the misplaced Skittles and to Mikey’s horror, still ate them. “What? Five second rule,” he claimed, even though it had been much more than five seconds. 

 

Mikey just held his hand out, and Nate poured a few Skittles from his Kangaroo pouch bag into his cupped palm, and they mustered another fifteen minutes of semi-focused reading before Mikey shut his computer. 

 

“Dylan’s right. This is useless.” 

 

“Oh, because Dylan said we should go to bed, we should?” Nate asked. 

 

“Nater, c’mon. It’s three am. All you want to do is eat candy and all I want to do is go to bed, so can we?” Mikey also hadn’t imagined a world where his schedule was so synced with his roommate’s that they went to bed at the same time every night, brushed their teeth in the sinks right next to each other, and chirped each other’s pajama choices. But that was all Nate stuff. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have done it with any other roommate. 

 

“Fine, fine,” Nate said, grabbing his book and the notebook that he hadn’t even cracked open that night, and unplugging the cord to Mikey’s computer for him. 

 

In their room, he let Nate climb up to the top bunk first and get comfortable before shutting off the light, which was his job as the bottom bunker. 

 

“Night, Mikey,” Nate said from somewhere above him. 

 

“Night, Nater.” 

 

\---

 

“Two more weeks until Christmas,” Nate said at the cafeteria. They were eating dinner early — or lunch colossally late, depending on how you categorized the first meal they ate that day — at a table pretty far away from the cafeteria commotion, the three of them. Mikey, Nate, and Dylan, who absolutely was eating an early dinner because he had night class. “What do you do for it in Sauga?” 

 

Dylan and Mikey’s families were pretty tangled together. They usually did a combined Christmas Eve party, that was ostensibly a neighborhood party but was very Strome/McLeod dominated. “You should come,” Mikey said, eyes hopeful. 

 

“It’s like, an hour away,” Dylan interjected discouragingly. Which was basically a guarantee that Nate would make it, and the look on Dylan’s face right after he said it confirmed that he knew he’d fucked that up. 

 

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll talk to my mom about it,” Nate said, which Mikey thought was just sweet. “How’s the lasagna?” he asked Mikey, eyeing the food on his plate. Nate picked off of Mikey’s tray, which was pretty typical, and Mikey stole bites from the piece of chocolate cake Nate had grabbed, which looked better than the carrot cake on his own plate. 

 

“You two are disgusting,” Dylan told them, arms protective around his own tray even though no one was coming for his food. 

 

\---

 

Tuesdays and Thursdays were Mikey’s least favorite days because he and Nate had different classes. Nate had intro to management, and Mikey had a drawing class that he had to pass to fulfill an art credit. When he got back to his dorm room from that, his hands were still covered in charcoal, and his dorm room was empty. He hated being in there without Nate. He just kind of hated not being with Nate in general. 

 

He wandered over to Dylan’s room. His door was open, as was encouraged of RA’s, and he was sitting on his bed, watching TV. 

 

“Hey, man. Close the door behind you,” Dylan greeted, and Mikey did. Then he climbed into bed next to Dylan. Dylan was watching reruns of Jersey Shore, which Mikey couldn’t fault him for, because it was a Strome/McLeod family tradition. He thought one of their Matts was responsible for it, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint which one. 

 

Dylan was kind of Mikey’s college safety blanket. He was kind of Mikey’s safety blanket in general. It’s how he ended up at the same fucking school as him to begin with. It felt a little weird feeling like he should be trying harder to be Dylan’s safety blanket. 

 

“You doing okay, buddy?” Mikey asked, sinking down against the wall just enough to rest his head on Dylan’s shoulder. He was worried about him. Worried about the moping, the eye bags (worse than usual), and what seemed like the complete lack of friends. 

 

“Thinking about dropping out after this semester,” Dylan said, his voice dull and heavy. 

 

“The fuck, Strommer?” 

 

“I just. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.” He sounded so broken. Mikey reached out and grabbed one of his hands, threading their fingers together. 

 

“C’mon. We can get through it together. What’s buggin’ you?” 

 

“Just. Mitch,” Dylan said, his voice cracking. Last year, Mitch Marner was all Mikey heard about when they were texting about Dylan’s first year in college. Mitch was Dylan’s roommate, and the planet he orbited. Dylan fell hard for him. But Mitch didn’t return his feelings. At least not romantically. It crushed him. 

 

He was still, clearly, crushed. 

 

“You’ll find someone new,” Mikey said. He knew he would. Maybe he was a little biased because Dylan was functionally his brother, but Dylan was _great_. When he wasn’t...you know...wallowing in his own self-pity. 

 

“Do I even want to?” 

 

“You deserve to. Give it a chance. And like, even if you don’t fall in love, that doesn’t mean you can’t get your degree. Don’t let Mitch take that away from you.” Mikey had never met Mitch, but he knew who he was. Dylan had pointed him out, always with his boyfriend Auston’s arm draped around his shoulders. From what it sounded like, Mitch wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t love Dylan back. 

 

“Do you regret telling him?” Mikey asked. Really he was asking ‘would I regret telling Nate?’

 

“No,” Dylan said. “I mean, it ruined our friendship. But maybe that’s good. I could never just be his friend. If I was trying to be his friend right now, I’d have to hear about how much he loves Auston and I think that would kill me.” 

 

Mikey let those words hang in the air as he paused to think it over. Would he want to be friends with Nate if Nate didn’t like him back? He didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine not wanting to be around Nate constantly, under any circumstances. 

 

But seeing him be in love with someone else would not be ideal. 

 

“Is this about Bastian?” Dylan asked, and like, yes. Obviously. 

 

“No,” Mikey lied. He told Dylan basically everything. But his feelings for Nate felt fragile and tender. Like they needed to be protected. 

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, in a tone that told Mikey that he absolutely didn’t believe him. “But when you’re ready to talk about that, I’m here.” 

 

Mikey paused, let the silence fill the room around him before he said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you here, Dyl.” He spent so much time with Nate nowadays that just wanted Dylan to know that he still loved him too. That Dylan still had a place in his life and his heart. 

 

“Ditto, Mike.” 

 

\---

 

“I wanna go to a party,” Nate whined. They were curled up together in Mikey’s bed, because Nate never wanted to climb all the way up to his. Nate’s head was in Mikey’s lap, and the TV that was on a shitty Ikea stand in front of them was playing Elf, because Mikey had recently learned how much Nate Bastian loved Christmas. 

 

Mikey was fine to stay in that night, but he wasn’t opposed to getting a little tipsy either. He liked being a little tipsy. He liked being with Nate. Nate wanted to go to a party. The logic wasn’t tricky or difficult. 

 

“Find a party, Nater, and we’ll go,” he said. It was a given that whatever they chose to do, they’d do it together. That’s just how they _worked_. Mikey was already wondering how fucking long winter break was going to feel, but Kitchener and Mississauga were only an hour apart, so he suspected he wouldn’t be without Nate the entire break. 

 

Nate sent some texts, and twenty minutes later declared they were going to an ugly Christmas sweater party at the hockey house. 

 

“Can we bring Dyls?” Mikey asked. “He’s being a sad bastard. Needs a couple drinks, probably.” 

 

“I mean, if that is your condition,” Nate said, with a sigh. He stood up from his position cuddled against Mikey and stripped his shirt off. Mikey’s eyes followed him, the way the skin on his back moved as he dug through their closet for the ugly sweater he apparently both already owned and had packed for school, which wasn’t shocking to Mikey. 

 

It was red and green striped and had little Christmas stockings hanging off of it, and a line of knitted 3D Christmas lights around the collar. He smiled huge, dorky and just all fucking teeth, as he pulled on an elf hat that had a bell on the point of it. 

 

“It took you twenty seconds to go from Regular Nater to Christmas Nater, and I’m a little scared of you.” 

 

“My secret is that I’m always Christmas Nater, Michael,” he said very seriously. “I’ve got another one for you too, don’t worry,” he said, producing another sweater that had a gingerbread man on the front. 

 

“You’re insane,” Mikey said, but he took his hoodie off to pull the sweater on, and when he’d finally straightened it out and made it look semi-nice, Nate was smiling at him.

 

“Damn you look good in an ugly sweater, my man,” Nate said, grabbing Mikey’s shoulders so he could hold Mikey at arm’s length and admire him. Mikey blushed under the weight of Nate’s gaze, his admiration. Nate gave his cheek a soft pat. Almost a caress, if Mikey wanted to be precious about it. “Let’s go grab your annoying older brother and go get some drinks.” 

 

Mikey followed Nate over to Dylan’s room where Dylan’s door was open. He was digging through his regular person clothes for something to wear since not everyone is as festive as Natemas Bastian apparently. Mikey just pulled off the Santa hat Nate had shoved onto his head on the way out the door and handed it over. 

 

The walk over to the hockey house wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t too far away, but it was cold, and they had decided against jackets because...where do you put your jacket in a frat house?

 

Mikey shivered. “Fuck,” he said, rubbing his hands together, and stuffing them under his armpits to try to warm them up. It was December in Canada. They were idiots. Dylan was in a similar situation, and Nate was maybe the coldest of them all. His sweater, while his favorite, was just a tiny bit too small for him, and the sleeves didn’t quite reach his wrists. When he moved at all, a strip of belly skin was visible above his pants. 

 

“Nater, are you dying?” Mikey asked, because he was genuinely concerned about seeing his best friend’s lips turn blue. It had happened before. 

 

“I’m fine, babe,” he said, and threw an arm around Mikey’s shoulders, sacrificing the warmth of his stomach for Mikey. Being pressed to Nate’s side was helping, and he wrapped his arms around Nate’s torso as best he could to try to return the favor. They stumbled a bit, trying to sync up their footsteps in order to be able to walk so tangled up, but Nate just laughed, and Mikey thought it sounded like fucking music. 

 

He heard Dylan groan from behind them. 

 

Mikey hadn’t been to a party at the hockey house before, but it was like any other frat house. Really dirty and really crowded. Nate had thought about rushing something, but Mikey had talked him out of it. He didn’t think he could live like this. However, he could party like this. 

 

They found the keg in the kitchen, and the beer was fine. Nate went straight for shots, and Mikey raised an eyebrow at him as he knocked one back. “It’s Christmas,” he said with a shrug, and tipped another shot back. 

 

So it was going to be that kind of a night. 

 

Dylan also took a couple shots, then poured himself a beer. _So it was going to be that kind of a night._

 

Mikey couldn’t realistically keep track of both of them when they were drunk, since Dylan had developed a penchant for hiding himself in tight places out of sorrow, and Nate became some kind of crazy social butterfly when he drank, so he decided to keep an eye on Dylan. Nate wasn’t going to get himself in any trouble.

 

Things were going fine — both of Mikey’s friends in his eyesight — until Dylan saw Mitch out of the corner of his eye. “Fuck. FUCK. I forgot that his boyfriend is on the hockey team, fuck, get me out of here, Clouder.” 

 

Dylan tucked himself into Mikey’s shoulder to hide his face, and Mikey put his arm around him, protective. When he turned back to where Nate had been, he’d lost him. 

 

“Shit, I lost Nater.” 

 

“He’ll find his way home, let’s just leave,” Dylan said. 

 

“No, Nate is like, _drunk,_ I’m not leaving him. I have to go find him. Can you stay right here? Like seriously, do not move, okay?” 

 

Dylan rolled his eyes at him and turned to hide against the wall instead of Mikey, and Mikey headed into the crowd. There were a lot of dumb looking sweaters, and the floor was sticky, and the hockey house smelled bad because _athletes_ and where the fuck was Nathan Bastian anyway? 

 

Mikey found him in a room that was on the other side of the house, making a group of people laugh. Mikey paused, leaning against the wall to watch Nate perform. He had their full attention, and while he couldn’t hear him, Mikey could tell from his arm movements that he was telling his dinosaur jokes that Mikey had heard him tell a thousand times already. But they made Nate light up so happy that Mikey couldn’t help but want to hear them again. At least to see Nate smile like that. 

 

And fuck, that’s what love was, right? 

 

_Fuck._ Did he love Nater? 

 

Nate turned in that moment and caught his eye, and his already happy face blossomed like the sun was rising because Mikey was there. “Mikey!” he shouted over the crowd, and he just left his new admirers in his wake as he made his way over to Mikey. He wrapped Mikey up in a hug and tucked his face in Mikey’s neck. They’d been apart for _maybe_ twenty minutes, and Nate was telling him how much he missed him. Sure, Nate was drunk. But it still felt nice. 

 

“Dyl just realized that Mitch’s new boyfriend is a hockey player, so we gotta go before he drowns in his own tears.” 

 

“Ugh, this is why we should have gone without him,” Nate said, but he followed Mikey as he headed back to the spot he’d deposited Dylan at. 

 

“Motherfucking Strome,” Mikey said when it became very clear that Dylan was not only not in the spot he’d left him in, but was not even in the vicinity. He’d been wearing a royal blue sweater, and Mikey couldn’t see any blue anywhere. 

 

“I guess we’re finding him,” Nate said, getting a little pissy. Mikey could be upset with Nate about his attitude later, but for now, he just grabbed Nate’s hand to keep track of him and threaded them through the house. Nate’s hand was warm, and he tangled their fingers together, and even though they didn’t find Dylan anywhere on the main floor, they didn’t give up. 

 

Mikey sent him some texts and kept his eye on his phone as they went unanswered. Dylan wasn’t in the basement, where a couple was making out on the washing machine. He wasn’t hiding in the main floor bathroom, and it was too cold for anyone except the smokers to be outside, so Mikey led Nate upstairs to see if he was up there. 

 

Mikey was too shy to peek into bedrooms, so they got the bathrooms upstairs first, which were empty, and then braved the bedrooms, which Nate volunteered to barge into because he was just drunk enough for a task like that. One was locked. The second had three girls in a bed, making out and talking casually, and Mikey thought like - _yeah, that’s what I’d be doing too if I was a girl at this party_. 

 

They didn’t seem too put out by it, but Nate apologized and closed the door. The third had a guy and a girl kind of angrily arguing, which garnered a larger apology from Nate than he’d given to the girls, who’d seemed cool. They heard the lock flip after Nate closed the door. 

 

The final room upstairs had the kind of construction paper decorations that Dylan had had to make for his whole floor, with everyone’s names on them so you could find your room on move-in day or whatever. This one said CONNOR in a banner and had a big “C” in that jock-y font you’d see on the shoulder of a hockey jersey. So, the captain's room then. 

 

Nate pushed it open. Inside on the queen-sized bed were two boys, tangled up and kissing, and Nate almost slammed the door shut immediately before the boys’ heads both shot up to see who was there, and Mikey saw Dylan. And a blonde boy with shaggy hair and the beginnings of a beard. 

 

“Ummm,” Mikey said, just looking, frozen. 

 

“We’ll leave you to that, then,” Nate said and closed the door. 

 

Mikey took a deep breath and squeezed Nate’s hand, which he was still holding for some reason. Nate squeezed back. 

 

“I gotta…” Mikey said, pulling his phone out to text Dylan, just that they were going to go, and if Dylan needed anything, call him or something. 

 

They headed out of the party, and it wasn’t until they were halfway back, Nate’s arms wrapped around him to keep him warm again, that Mikey remembered that the only reason they were leaving was because Dylan had wanted to go. 

 

“Fuck,” Mikey said after telling Nate what he just realized. “Do you want to go back?” 

 

“Nah,” Nate said, tucking Mikey closer into his side. “We have Elf to finish.” 

 

When they got back, Nate clumsily tried to escape his too-small sweater and got stuck. He was maybe one drink beyond being able to get undressed by himself, so Mikey helped him pull the sweater off. Nate tossed it into his laundry pile, smiling shirtless at Mikey. “Thanks for going with me.” 

 

He had such a Nate Bastian smile on his face, and Mikey just...he just wanted to kiss him. 

 

Instead, he turned away from that smile to pull his own sweater off, his t-shirt that was underneath the sweater coming off with it. Instead of helping keep his shirt on and get his sweater off, Nate’s hands skidded up Mikey’s bare sides, taking both shirt and sweater with them. Mikey shivered at Nate’s touch, could feel how close Nate was behind him. 

 

“Nater,” Mikey started, turning around to face him. But he was cut off by Nate’s lips on his, Nate’s hands on his hips. 

 

He was surprised. Nate’s lips were chapped, but Mikey spent so much time in Nate’s space already that he already knew that. What he didn’t know was how sure Nate’s strong hands would feel on his hips, how automatic it was to wrap his arms around Nate’s neck and kiss back. 

 

They were bare-chested, pressed together, and when Mikey pulled back, Nate was breathing hard, his eyes dark. He rested his forehead against Mikey’s, and Mikey could have melted into a fucking puddle. 

 

“You’re drunk,” Mikey said, very, very reluctantly. He wanted this — Nate’s lips on his, Nate surrounding him, everywhere — but he wanted it when they were both sober. 

 

“I’m not that drunk,” Nate argued. 

 

“Too drunk to take off your own sweater,” Mikey said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

“That’s-” Nate sighed, resigned. “Okay. But I’m not too drunk to mean it. So. I mean. If you want it. I want it.” 

 

“Why now?” Mikey asked. He hadn’t seen it coming. He’d hoped Nate felt the same way he did, but also...maybe it was just who Nate was, to be so affectionate. 

 

“Cause, like. It’s Christmas. Or it’s going to be Christmas. And in a week I’m not gonna wake up to you every day. And because seeing Dylan fucking Strome kiss a boy made me realize that that’s what I wanted too. To kiss you. Now.” 

 

Mikey blushed. _It’s Christmas._ That was so stupid, but also kind of cute. Just like Nater. 

 

“Well, fuck, dude. You kissed me because of Dylan?” Mikey asked, cause he knew it would rile him up. He held Nate’s face close to his with both of his hands as Nate laughed and rolled his eyes. There was nothing like laughing with Nate, even if he had kind of gross beer breath. 

 

“Please stop saying his name,” Nate said, giving Mikey’s hips another squeeze before pulling away to grab a shirt from the closet. He threw one of his own shirts at Mikey, and Mikey smiled before pulling it over his head. They sometimes shared clothes, and this shirt smelled like Nate, which smelled like home. 

 

They put PJ pants on and Mikey turned the light off as Nate settled into Mikey’s bottom bunk. 

 

“C’mere,” Nate said, pulling Mikey into little spoon position, warm and sure against his back. His arms wound around Mikey, and Mikey put Elf back on. 

 

“You gonna have a headache in the morning?” Mikey asked, and Nate humphed into his neck. 

 

“Probably. No moving though. Too comfy.” 

 

How many times had they done this, cuddled in bed just exactly like this, after a night at a party? It was “so Nate didn’t fall out of the top bunk and die” but really, it was just an excuse to be together on this too-small bed. 

 

Mikey found Nate’s hand where it was pressed against his chest and threaded their fingers together. Before he fell asleep he checked his phone. He had a text from Dylan. _Um, staying at hockey house tonight._

 

“Stromer is getting laid I guess,” Mikey said, flipping over to press his face to Nate’s chest. 

 

“Will I even recognize him when he’s not being a sad bastard?” 

 

Mikey laughed, and Nate laughed because Mikey was laughing. 

 

\---

 

Mikey woke up on the morning they had to leave for Christmas break warm and tangled up with his favorite, favorite person in the whole world. The last week and a half had maybe been Mikey’s favorite ten days of his entire life, filled with more of Nate Bastian’s bare skin than Mikey ever thought he’d be allowed to have, to see, to touch, on a daily basis. 

 

His head was pressed against Nate’s chest, and he felt Nate stretch against him, one arm tightening its grip around Mikey’s shoulders, one hand threading through his hair. Mikey had just gone through two weeks of studying for and then taking finals, and he barely remembered anything other than the way it felt to have his dick in Nate’s mouth for the first time, so he’d probably call his first finals week a success. 

 

Um, at least if he passes his classes. 

 

“Don’t wanna get up,” Nate complained into Mikey’s hair. Nate was Not A Morning Person, but neither was Mikey really. 

 

“If we never get out of bed, do we really have to go home?” Mikey asked, and felt Nate’s laugh rumble in his chest. Nate’s laugh was still Mikey’s favorite sound. 

 

“What time is Dylan driving you home?” Nate asked. 

 

“Whenever your mom gets here to pick you up. Just, after that,” Mikey said. He’d talked to Dylan about staying for as long as possible before leaving. Dylan was on board for that. Mikey was pretty sure he had the captain of the hockey team in his bed at the moment as well. That development had been a boon for Mikey as well. Seeing Dylan happy for the first time all semester allowed him to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

 

And apparently Connor, a shy, kind of dorky kid, was very into Dylan’s whining and eyebrows (or whatever it was that attracted people to Dylan Strome), so Mikey had to give him that much at least. He’d met him a few times, but he was so quiet it was hard to get to know him. But there was always next semester. 

 

Nate checked the time on his phone. “She should be here in like, an hour,” Nate said, with a sigh. 

 

“You should fucking pack, dude,” Mikey said. They’d both been putting it off. Packing felt like saying goodbye. 

 

“No,” Nate said, pressing Mikey onto his back to give him morning breath kisses. He swung a leg over Mikey to straddle him, and Mikey pulled him close so their bodies were flush. 

 

They already had an intricate plan for how they were going to see each other almost every day of break, and Nate was confirmed for coming to the Christmas Eve party, as long as he woke up in his own bed for Christmas morning. Mikey was going to go to Kitchener for New Year’s. 

 

It wasn’t really goodbye. It was “see you tomorrow.” Literally. Still, Mikey held on tight to Nate. He wasn’t going to let him go. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying out a new thing! It's a tumblr just for my fic! I feel a little weird posting about fic on my main blog, so I've created a new space just for hockey RPF. You can find me [here!](https://betsywritesfic.tumblr.com/) IDK come say hi, follow for fic updates, etc. Or I'm thewestishharpooners in my main blog. Mostly hockey.


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